Of Love and Hope and Compassion
by AmyGoddess
Summary: After the Battle of Five Armies, Kili and Tauriel survive, as do Fili, Thorin, and others. Actions have heartbreaking consequences for Tauriel, but can Kili help heal her spirit? And can Gandalf and Galadriel help persuade Thorin to accept them? (Author's note: I can't believe how much fun this is! Writing fanfic! The story keeps changing on me. Glad you like it!)
1. The Decree

"Tell me, Legolas. Who is Kili?"

Thranduil stood, his back to his son, looking out the window of Tauriel's room. Through the opening, a cool breeze came, smelling lightly of the winter flowers that bloomed in the greenwood. Birds chirped outside the window, their happy tune dancing into the room. Most hearts could not fail to smile at the music.

The elven king, however, was not most hearts. Music flowed around him but he did not hear it. He looked at the trees before him, but did not see them.

His mind was focused on the elf in the bed behind him. The severely injured captain of the guard had been brought back to Mirkwood several weeks ago from the battlefield of Erebor. Morgul arrows had pierced her left thigh and right shoulder during the battle. She had also sustained a blow to the head. For many days, elven healers had treated her, along with other injured elves, with athelas and burningwood.

Unlike her comrades, Tauriel's injuries were slow to improve. This puzzled the healers greatly. "She should have been up and about already, my lord!" one had exclaimed a few days ago. "I cannot understand it, we are doing everything we normally do, and she is not the only elf injured by poisoned arrows!"

Not only was her body not healing as expected, but her mind seemed to either be in another world, or trapped in a nightmare. The healers reported her crying and whimpering, calling for someone named Kili. "Where are you, Kili?" she'd whispered in a dream one day when he'd been asked to examine her. "Please don't be dead."

Suspicious of that name, and now knowing why Tauriel had gone to Laketown, Thranduil had examined her closely, reciting old elven healing chants that sometimes helped reveal why a patient was not healing. What he learned that day had initially stunned him, then horrified him. Every time he thought of what she must have done, he felt nauseated.

He had been in a furious rage that day, having had to leave the room quickly before he smashed the vials of medicine, or ripped her possessions to pieces. How dare she, the orphan, the lowly Sylvan, defy him! And betray her own kind! He had raised her since her parents had been killed, a small elfling, sad and confused and lonely. Even though he had doubts, he'd seen she was recruited and trained in his guard. And promoted to head them as well, an honor for a Sylvan as well as a female.

This! This was how his beneficence was repaid! Thranduil rarely did anything from altruistic motives. He expected strict allegiance from those he favored. After all, what was the purpose of helping someone if you got nothing tangible in return?

His rage had ebbed over the past few days, the heat of it almost gone. Now he was cold. Ice cold. He had decided on an appropriate course of action, but there were still some details to address. Punishments to be handed out.

Thranduil turned to face the bed, gazing down upon the quiet form. She lay on a small bed, under warm blankets. Her face was cleaned of all blood and dirt, the wound on her head neatly dressed. Her breath was even and peaceful in deep, drugged, healing sleep. Sunlight from the window streamed onto her red hair, making it glow like fire. Others were moved by the sight of her beauty or pain. He found her disgusting.

"Did you hear me, Legolas? Do you know who Kili is? There is no one in this kingdom with that name. Unless it is a friend name or love name." He turned a piercing gaze on his son.

* * *

Legolas was in a world of misery. He sat in a chair by the door, his head bowed, eyes shut tight. He knew what was in store for Tauriel, even though his father had not yet said the words. Thranduil was not known for compassion or understanding. Defiance of his wishes and orders had but one response, unless one was an heir of the realm, or high born. Tauriel was neither.

He could not see a way to hide the fact that Kili was a dwarf of Erebor. And that Tauriel and the dwarf had developed feelings for each other.

No. That was not strong enough to describe the connection. Legolas recalled the end of the battle, seeing the dwarf weeping over her pierced, bleeding body before he himself was carried off to be tended by dwarvish healers. There was a deep connection, friendship and understanding and love, between them. It had been apparent that Kili loved her.

To his astonishment and horror, Tauriel had appeared to return his feelings with the same passion. How could that be? It was beyond his understanding. He could barely accept the idea! An elf, in love with a dwarf? In the history of elves, when had such a thing ever happened?

Yet, at night, as he tossed and turned in his sleep, his dreams told him that maybe this was his fault. Legolas had been friends with Tauriel since she was small. Training together, exploring the kingdom when he was not required elsewhere. Sharing secrets, hopes and dreams. He had watched her grow and change from a sweet little elf into a strong, talented, beautiful creature. Radiant with her love of the starlight.

He thought she had loved him at one time. Not as a good friend, but as more. Maybe not as strong as what he had felt growing inside him for many years, but something more. In the past few years, he was to the point of feeling jealous of anyone she spoke to more than he. He wanted her for himself, but he did not know how to find the courage to confront his father about his long-held prejudice against the Sylvans.

Legolas knew his father would have warned Tauriel away from him. It would explain her reluctance to be alone with him on drills and anywhere else. She shared less with him, only details related to the guard and the protection of the kingdom. He rarely saw her anywhere in the palace, except the dining hall. She kept to her room when not on patrol or training new recruits. Avoiding him as much as possible.

She'd stepped far away from her old friend. As far away as she could. And had done something he never could have imagined.

* * *

"Kili is a dwarf, one of the heirs of Thorin Oakenshield, the thief and son and grandson of thieves." Thranduil sneered, reaching into his mind and pulling him into the present. "He was my prisoner with his uncle and the rest of them all those weeks ago."

"Yes," Legolas said dully. What was the point in lying? His father probably already knew all there was to know.

"He was the one the Orcs shot with the Morgul arrow when they all escaped from the cellars."

"Yes."

"And that was the reason Tauriel disobeyed my orders at that time not to leave the kingdom. To find him and heal him. To save him." There was such disgust in his tone, Legolas shuddered.

"Partly, Father." Legolas lifted his head and looked at Tauriel's sleeping form. He sighed deeply. "She did not want the Orcs to hurt others, the people of Laketown as well as the dwarves. I went with her to hunt them."

Thranduil began to pace the room, his long silver robe swishing back and forth along the wooden floor of the sick room. "Yes, yes, I know all about your foolish whim. Your fondness for this lowly, unworthy Sylvan elf, could have gotten you killed. She stayed in Laketown to heal the dwarf, while you went on hunting Orcs. Alone."

"Yes."

"I saw them on the battlefield, fighting next to each other. And I saw him holding her after, weeping, before our healers found her."

Legolas said nothing, trembling inside, keeping his eyes on Tauriel's sleeping form.

"He loves her. And she loves him. Why else would she call out for him in her dreams? A dwarf, and an elf." The words were full of scorn. "Do you know what she did in Laketown? To heal the foul dwarf prince?"

Legolas looked at his father in confusion. "She used the athelas, as our healers do. What else would she have done?"

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "You think that is all? Why do you think she is taking so long to heal, when others with similar wounds are up and about as normal? Didn't you wonder about that?"

"I don't know what you mean, Father."

"Watch her, Legolas. At the end of this, she should be glowing like a star." Thranduil put his hands over her form, and started to chant.

He watched and listened to his father chanting in an ancient Elvish tongue. Legolas had not studied this particular language much, and knew only a few of the words. Grace. Power. Healing. "I didn't see anything," he said quietly, hearing his father finish.

"No. You did not. Nor would you. I did that over her a few days ago, when the healers came to see me. They were concerned about why she heals slowly. It revealed to me that her grace is completely gone."

Legolas gasped. It could not be true! Tauriel was no longer immortal. She would die someday. Her ability to heal quickly was compromised as well, her condition was no longer a mystery. He felt his heart breaking for his friend. He wanted to weep, but barely held himself back.

Thranduil gave him a mocking look. "Grace leaves us only when it is given to another, or when we are killed."

The answer to where Tauriel had given her grace filled the room. Legolas felt his chest tighten. "Tauriel!" he choked, trying to breathe.

"A Sylvan elf, showing her true low born qualities at the last. Now do you see why I refused to let you bind with her when you asked?"

Legolas felt the words pierce him like knives. "What do you plan to do, Father?" he whispered. He did not really want to know the answer, but could not stop the question.

His father sounded brisk and business-like. "The captaincy will go to Athelos, the second in command. And in two weeks from today, Tauriel will leave this kingdom, with whatever possessions can be managed, never to return. She is banished permanently. And as punishment for your foolish actions and poor judgment, you will be responsible for her complete removal from this kingdom."

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Rage, fear, regret, they all were stuck in his throat like a rock he could not swallow. Legolas had not even come close to imagining the depths of his father's cruelty.

"You - you would kick her out, even if she is in this state? She would die in the wilderness!" he spluttered.

"Then go to Erebor, and prostrate yourself at the feet of that false king. Beg him, plead and grovel, to take her in. Lower yourself to his level, if you want to save her life," Thranduil said acidly. "If Thorin won't take her, she will still leave the kingdom in two weeks, by your hand."

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. There was not a worse outcome he could imagine. His father's words and voice were like a blade at his throat, an inch from slicing open the pale smooth skin to draw his life blood.

Legolas saw a look of deepest loathing on his father's face as he looked upon Tauriel's sleeping form. "If she loves the dwarves so much, let her live with them, in that dark and dingy pile of rock." His father swept out of the room, not sparing a glance at his son.

The elven prince sat in his chair, his head in his hands. His shoulders shook with the sobs he could no longer hold back. Tears streamed down his face. Her fate was horrible enough, but for him to be complicit in it? How could he ever face himself again, if he did not do everything he could to see that she was safe somewhere?

He pulled his chair over to the bed and took her still hand in his. Pressing it to his wet cheek, he wondered if he was right. If there had been a time when she had loved him, as more than a good friend. If she had returned his passion, would he have had the strength to defy his father to be with her?

Whatever the answer, it no longer mattered. Tauriel had given her heart, and quite literally her life, to the dwarf. But she still had his. She would always have it. Legolas sighed and kissed her palm, wishing desperately that fate had dealt him a different hand.


	2. Who is 'Tar?

In the private dining hall of the king under the mountain, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, sat at the head of a long stone table. Around him sat his companions from the quest, half empty dinner plates in front of them. Those that were physically able to come to table, that is.

Many were still healing from injuries sustained in the battle that had ended, in bittersweet victory, several weeks ago. Fili's broken right forearm was almost healed, but still in a sling. Oin hobbled on a crutch, the muscles of his injured calf slowly knitting back together. Balin's broken nose was healed, the deep bruising gone, but still tender. Gandalf, Bilbo, and Beorn were almost healed from small cuts and knicks on their faces, and more cuts to arms and legs.

Some were gone forever, never to sit at this table and enjoy the company of these good men in their ancestral home. Dwalin had been hit by poisoned Morgul arrows, and was too far gone in fever by the time he was found. The healers could do nothing for him. An Orc sword had cut the throat of Bofur. They had not been able to identify Bombur among the dead or wounded.

Dori and Kili had been in bed with high fevers for several days. It was touch and go for a time with both. But Dori was up, able to get out of bed and walk around, but still tired. He was taking a tray in his room this evening, though they expected his company very soon.

Kili was another matter. Thorin was worried about him, more worried each day. In his own injured delirium, he had not been truly aware of his nephew's condition. But as he healed, gaining strength over the past two weeks, he'd learned more of what was going on.

Fili had told him Kili would sometimes cry out in his sleep. "Where are you?" One of the healers had told him privately she'd heard Kili whisper "Tar" and "I love you." His mind was slowing his recovery. They were not sure what to do, except to give him herbs to help him sleep. And they were not really working.

This Tar-person, who was he or she? Thorin had not asked anyone yet if they knew what Kili's dreams were about. He suspected Fili knew. There was something in his manner when they spoke of Kili that seemed to hold back, a hesitancy of sorts. Thorin could not understand why. Sometimes he thought he was imagining things.

Tonight he would ask Fili, and the company. He could wait no longer. There must be something that could be done to help heal Kili's spirit and body. If they knew about his dreams, they could find a solution.

* * *

"My king," Balin said from Thorin's right, "a messenger from King Bard arrived earlier today. They are looking for more assistance in rebuilding the city. Not more money right now, even though you said you would give them more in great need. But in labor, many people are traveling from Laketown to Dale to live. Many more than we anticipated."

Inside Thorin growled. He had already given Bard of Dale much gold, or so it seemed to him. Each piece was precious to him, even though no one could count the number of gold pieces in Erebor, they were far too numerous. He picked up a piece of bread and broke off a piece, chewing it slowly. "We have more than enough work here for our people, making this kingdom livable again."

"True enough," said Balin. "But we are protected from the elements in here, no matter where we are. They are not. And it will likely prove to our long term advantage to help Dale in this way."

"We will talk of this more tomorrow, Balin," said Thorin shortly. "Perhaps some skilled dwarves could be spared, for a time."

He stood up. "I want to ask about Kili. I am concerned he is not healing as he should. A prince of the realm is needed to help put this kingdom to rights. He calls out for someone and asks where they are. His mind is troubled, and his recovery is hindered. Who is 'Tar'?"

* * *

Seated at Thorin's left, Fili fell still. He felt his uncle's eyes on him, that intense, penetrating stare he had hated in his childhood. That look had always been able to pull a confession out of him when he was a small dwarfling in trouble.

He ventured a glance at Oin, who was across from him next to Balin. They knew very well who 'Tar' was. Why Kili was calling out for her.

An elf, one of King Thranduil's subjects, she had been their jailer in Mirkwood. She had saved them from Orcs in Laketown, and worked her healing magic on Kili, to save him from Morgul poison.

She had cared for Kili. Perhaps she'd even loved him. In Bard's home, Fili had heard what he was not meant to hear: the whispered fevered talk from his brother, asking Tauriel "do you think she could have loved me?" And listened to them talking in Bard's house in Laketown, when they thought others were asleep. Their mother would have called it "sweet talk". Quiet, gentle tones, sharing simple stories. Smiles and looks filled with longing and meaning.

Fili could not remember the last time a woman had looked at him with such eyes of love. He'd felt strangely jealous of his brother, even as he felt a little sick at the idea of Kili being in love with an elf.

But it was very clear his brother deeply loved the elf maiden. He had tried to keep near Kili on the battlefield, and Kili had tried to keep near Tauriel, to protect her. When she was felled by Morgul arrows, Fili saw his brother hold her body tenderly, rocking her, weeping into her hair. Soon after her fall, elven healers had collected her, to take her back to her people. Kili had been too weak to protest, in need of medicine himself. But Fili thought the elf maiden had still been alive at the time. Now he did not know even that much.

Could he find that out? Now that he was almost healed, he had the strength to think and plot and plan. He needed to help his brother. It was their way, forged as tiny dwarflings.

If she had died, would knowing that kill Kili? And if she lived, what then? Where in Middle Earth would anyone accept a dwarf and an elf, together? Fili himself could not understand it. Indeed, it was hard to accept! He didn't want to imagine what Thorin and his mother would say. Yet if his brother loved her, he would help them to be together. It was his duty to Kili.

He closed his eyes, and wondered whom he could ask to help him find out if she was still alive. It had to be in secret, without their uncle finding out who 'Tar' was. The king's rage would be terrible. And Thranduil. He was another king of irascible temper. Fili recalled his behavior just before the battle, the icy glares, the sneering condescension. He was worse even than Thorin. If he found out an elf loved a dwarf, who knows what he would do.

Whatever he did, Fili would have to keep it out of the eyes and ears of both sovereigns. And how in the name of Mahal was he going to do that?

* * *

"Was she was that jailer in Mirkwood?" Thorin started to walk slowly around the table. "I thought I saw someone sitting outside Kili's cell, talking to him for long whiles, someone with long red hair."

"Yes, she was," said Oin.

Fili jumped at the words. He glared at Oin, but the healer shook his head as if to say why try to hide it.

"Oin, you told me YOU had healed Kili! But she did, didn't she?" Thorin shouted.

"How do you figure that?"

"Because when you told me, you called it athelas. That is the elf word for the plant. Not kingsfoil." Thorin looked around the room. Fili could feel him accusing each person with his eyes. "How could you let an elf of Mirkwood heal him?" he screeched.

"Because I could not! Your nephew was saved by her! We were saved by her from Orcs. And the dragon. We would have died and never made it to the mountain if it was not for her."

Inspired by Oin's outburst, Fili pushed back his chair and stood to face his uncle in full fury. His brother was not here, so he must stand for him. "He loves the elf maid Tauriel," he said softly. "And, if she still lives, she loves him."

"No!" raged Thorin. He pounded his fists on the table. "No! I won't believe he could be so foolish! He betrayed me!" His screams were amplified by the room, echoing in their ears. A goblet went flying across the room, splattering bright red wine on the wall as it clattered to the floor. Bread sailed out of its basket down the table.

Feeling tired suddenly, Fili sat heavily in his chair. It had been several weeks since his uncle had had such a tantrum. He wondered if the Arkenstone, and the gold, were helping to stir him up again. The last time that had happened, Thorin had almost refused the help of the elves in the battle. They all would be dead now if he'd done so. He was worried about the outbursts and irrationality.

He spared a look at Balin, who was perhaps one of the few in the room who could quell the outburst. The old, wise counselor had closed his eyes, weariness creasing his weather-beaten face.

The deep, resonant voice of Beorn broke through the noise, surprising Fili. "I am your guest, but you are not my king. I do not wish to have food thrown at me."

"How dare you speak to me like that!" Thorin raged. "I am the king, I can do as I please."

"Yes, you can, and you can make a fool of yourself at the same time." The wizard's voice was scornful. Here was another of the company, Fili thought, who could manage his uncle. And why had he not realized until just now whom to ask to help find out about Tauriel? The answer had been in Erebor for weeks.

"Spare me from the tantrums of kings, I have had quite enough." Gandalf continued, getting out of his chair. "Kili's love is not about you. I'm going to look in him. Let me know if you decide you truly want to help him heal." He swept out of the room, followed quickly by Beorn and Bilbo.

Fili watched them leave. Others in Erebor might disagree, but having them here was truly a blessing to him. The wizard, the skin-changer, the hobbit. All had proved themselves wise in a way he had to admit most dwarves lacked. They were not under the power of his uncle, needing nothing to do with politics and rank, or treasure. They were just themselves. He knew the three of them would help him with finding Tauriel. And with his concerns about Thorin. He did not know how to manage the gold sickness he sometimes thought he saw creeping up. Fili wasn't sure Balin could manage it, either. Breaking rank and court etiquette, he followed them from the hall, leaving his uncle shouting after him.

* * *

Kili's room was dim and quiet and smelled of healer's herbs. A fat gold candle sat on a table near the bed, flickering warm light on the sleeping body. He slept a little fitfully, a few light beads of sweat dotting his brow.

Gandalf pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. He tapped his staff on the floor, and the white stone in the top lit up, illuminating the room.

"He looks different," he said, thinking out loud. He had not really take a good long look at Kili for many weeks, not since the start of the quest at Bilbo's house. Most of the time since then, all the dwarves had been dirty, or injured. And there had been little time for examinations.

There was something about the young dwarf that had changed, and it was not the fever and his injuries. There was a feeling, an air, something. Gandalf was pretty sure he knew what it was, but had not seen the effects for many, many years.

"Well, Gandalf, he would look different, he's been quite ill," said Bilbo from the door. He made his way into the room, followed by Beorn and Fili. "He almost died in Laketown."

"Of course, Bilbo, but this is something different. Which leg was hit by the Orc arrow when you were escaping Mirkwood?"

"His right leg, above the knee. But why does it matter?" asked Fili.

Gandalf gently pulled back the covers to find the older wound in Kili's leg. Bending down, he pointed his staff and examined it closely. The skin around the wound was very well healed, much more so than he would expect. There was no discoloration, the wound area was the same color as the rest of the leg. A small white scar glowed slightly where the arrow had pierced.

"When the elf was saving Kili, was there a light round her?"

"Yes. Yes there was." Fili pictured Bard's house in his mind. The fear and grief of Kili dying, the Orc attack, and the utter beauty and calm of Tauriel chanting healing words. "There was a white glowing light around her. It filled the whole house." He paused, considering. "I thought I heard voices, or music. Some kind of sound."

Gandalf looked rather surprised. "Music?"

"Yes, I think so. Something quiet, but beautiful. Why do you ask? What was it?" Fili frowned in confusion.

"Yes, Gandalf. What did that elf do to my nephew? Did she cast a spell on him to make him love her?" Thorin growled. They had not heard him come to stand in the doorway.

Fili bit his lip. Gandalf closed his eyes and shook his head. "She shared with him some of her grace. That is why he, and the wound, glow slightly."

"What?" Bilbo breathed.

"Grace. Her immortality. To save him, she filled him with that grace she is granted. That is why you saw a white light around her," Gandalf said, looking at Fili. "But the music part, I am not sure what that would be."

"So what does that mean, wizard!" Thorin spat out the words.

"It means she is still alive. If she was not, this glow certainly would be gone from him. Come, if you look at the arrow wound, you can see it."

Thorin pushed into the room to peer at the injured leg. It was faint, but the skin sparkled like a distant star. He gasped in horror.

"So this is a binding, a connection that can only be broken in death?"

"If she dies, the glow will go. He may die. Not from her passing, but from heartbreak." Gandalf paused. He seemed to be looking for works to help them understand. "It was a powerful, generous thing for her to do. The current faintness may be due to Tauriel's own injuries. If she was fully healed and healthy, the glow would probably be stronger."

There was muttering from the bed. "Tauriel? She is alive?" Kili's eyes flickered open.

Fili pushed past Gandalf, to take Kili's hand. "Yes, brother, we think she is alive."

Despite his weakened state, Kili's grip was very strong. Fili winced slightly in pain. "Can you find her? Please, please find her and help her. I love her. Will you do it, brother?" His brother's eyes cleared and focused on his. "Will you?"

Fili bent his head, touching their clasped hands. Tears stung his eyes to hear his brother's clear declaration of love. Of course he would help him. How could he not?

Across the bed from him, he heard his uncle gasp, and then fall silent. Fili lifted his head and looked directly into Thorin's wide eyes as he answered his brother."Yes, Kili. We will find her and help her. I promise you, brother."

"Thank you." Kili closed his eyes and smiled. Thorin closed his eyes and groaned.

Fili felt a strong hand on his shoulder. "You are doing the right thing. I will help you in any way I can," Gandalf said softly. Fili looked up, and saw nods of agreement from Bilbo and Beorn. "Thank you," he said, touched by their willingness to assist in something that had nothing to do with their lives. "I accept your help gladly."


	3. Punishment

**_Author's note:_**

**_Yes, I am re-writing and re-posting. The farther along I got, some things I wanted to do did not make sense in the backstory. And I wanted to flesh out some areas in earlier chapters, some scenes seemed rushed and skimpy. Also will be incorporating some suggestions on the Tolkien cannon from a regular reviewer. :)_**

**_Sorry for the confusion! Let the drama continue!_**

* * *

In the deep dark of night, Legolas walked quietly through the palace. His father was deeply asleep in the western wing. But it was not his father he sought at this late hour.

He could not sleep. Ever since his father had set Tauriel's fate two days ago, Legolas could not settle enough to rest. Not during the day, not at night. His mind was always racing, his stomach churning too much to relax. Eventually he would become exhausted, and his body would force him to rest, but he was far from that state.

It was all over the palace. Her banishment, and his role in it. The actual formal document of Tauriel's expulsion said nothing about the reasons why, or where she might go after she had left. Just the date and the terms. But there were whispers in the halls. Legolas, and his father, were not the only elves to see what went on during the battle. He was not the only elf who had noticed the fair captain of the guard sitting outside the cell of one of the dwarven prisoners, talking quietly, laughing softly together.

People avoided his eyes as he walked through the palace during the day. Being in trouble with the king, as he was, caused others to distance themselves. It was as if one had contracted a contagious disease and any contact at all was a way spread it.

But it was not only that situation that caused people to avoid him. Legolas had not been discreet with his interest in Tauriel. Unguarded looks of longing, or staring too hard and too long. His gaze, and the intensity of it, had not gone unnoticed. Now that the rumors were rippling through the palace, he had heard faint snippets of conversation. The favored prince, in love with a Sylvan elf, who then falls in love with a dwarf? Just as his father had, some of the people were now mocking him for loving Tauriel. Not openly, but in secret. He could see it in their eyes.

Not everyone mocked him. Some looked at him with sorrow, but did not reach out in public or in private. They were afraid of being pulled into his punishment and disgrace. Legolas was on his own, isolated from friends and support. He had wondered if his father knew that would happen as part of his decree. And had realized that of course Thranduil had known all the consequences. His punishments were meted out swifty, in a way designed for maximum pain. Legolas knew this from observation. He just didn't ever think he would be a target for his father's cruelty. How wrong he had been.

Making sure the halls were empty, he made his way to the healing stores. He would be leaving for Erebor soon, taking some of Tauriel's possessions with him. Just in case Thorin did actually agree to take her in. Legolas could not let her things be destroyed, as they would be if anything was left.

He also was going to take elvish healing herbs. He did not know what kind of herbs and medicines the dwarven healers had, or knew about. If Tauriel needed something they did not have, where could they find it? The elves had fought in the battle, but that did not mean any peace was set between Erebor and Mirkwood. With this banishment decree, no dwarf was going to come to an elf to get medical advice. He would have to take what he thought was needed, and write out what to do with it. Surely there was someone in Erebor who could read basic Elvish?

No one was in sight as he opened the door to the healing storeroom. Legolas went inside. The room was bathed in light from the sky windows high above. Scents of various herbs assailed him, confusing him for a moment. What did he need for her? Athelas was always a basic, powerful staple. He took a bag of it and put it in his pocket. Scanning the rest of the herbs, he selected what he wanted. Promotion of healing. She would need that, without the immortality to support her. Herbs for energy and alertness.

His pockets now filled with small bags of dried herbs, he tried to make the shelves look like nothing had been taken. Someone would be able to tell, but not for a while. So he hoped.

Tauriel's room was not far away. That was his next stop. He slipped from the storeroom, and down the hall.

On her door was posted the formal written decree of her banishment and its terms. It was signed and sealed and dated. He had read it many times, wishing it to say something else. Legolas removed it from the door, and put it in his pocket. Then he went inside the room.

Tauriel lay in the moonlight, breathing slowly. Her face was slightly sweaty. He touched her brow, and thought she felt a little warm. Not in fever danger anymore. But how would she be in just a little over a week, when she would be removed from the kingdom forever?

He went to her closet. There was a pack in here he knew she used for long trips. He opened it and began to fill it, taking tunics and skirts from the closet and folding them gently inside.

Once he had emptied the closet, there was still some room in the pack. Legolas walked to the bookshelf, filled with mementos and books Tauriel had collected. Drawings of her parents. A silver brush and mirror he thought might have belonged to her late mother. He laid some of these items carefully on top of the clothing.

That was enough for now, the pack was full. Legolas left the room. It was time to leave for Erebor. He hoped that a different, yet still irritable king would find a scrap of pity in his heart.

* * *

"Lord Balin! Lord Balin!" There was a knock at the door. "Are you awake, sir?"

It was early morning. Balin was awake, and had been for a couple hours. He was still in bed, with his pens and ink and paper beside him, scribbling notes and questions.

The discussions of the past couple days had kept him up longer than normal, thinking and considering. Worrying. As chief counsel to the king, he needed to wade through all the possible actions and consequences before making his recommendations about anything.

The Kili situation concerned him greatly, mainly from a political standpoint. It was fraught with complications. How could the dwarves help the elf maid, if she needed it, without going through the petty and capricious King Thranduil? Gandalf could help them find out her condition, but what then?

Did helping her, as Fili had agreed to last night, mean bringing her to Erebor? If so, how would the people react? Some of the dwarves of the company knew Tauriel a little, and accepted her for what she had done to save their kin. A few even liked her. But not all dwarves would care about that. Would her presence create problems in the kingdom?

And Kili himself. He said he loved her. Did he want to marry her? If they had children, half dwarf, half elf? They would never be accepted as heirs to the throne. They might not be accepted in the kingdom at all. Kili would likely not be able to stay in Erebor with an elf to wife and their children.

Oddly, he did not find himself enraged, or repulsed by the idea of a dwarf loving an elf. Dwarves had their concept of a One love. Some never found him or her, living their lives but without that mate, that connection. If this elf was indeed Kili's One love, how could he judge, how could he say it was wrong? He'd been taught from a very young age that it was a very special thing. He thought there must be a reason for this unusual love, something none of them might ever understand.

But his main concern was keeping the kingdom functioning smoothly, not pondering the designs of the universe. Balin did not want to see more strife, after so recently dealing with war and death and sorrow. But he knew more conflict could not be avoided.

"Lord Balin!"

"Yes, yes, I am coming." The old dwarf got out of bed and pulled on a robe. "What is it, Gamlin?" he asked, opening the door.

"Prince Legolas of Mirkwood has just arrived. He is alone. He says he will only speak to King Thorin, and we've orders to go to you first with requests to talk only to the King."

Balin frowned. What could the son of Thranduil be doing here, so early, and all by himself? It was perplexing. "I'll get dressed. Please take the prince to the king's private hall, I will be there directly."

* * *

Dressed in the robes of his office, Balin made his way to the private hall some minutes later. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. Food would have to wait, for the present.

He found the young elven prince pacing the length of the hall. He seemed quite agitated. His clothes were flecked with mud, and there was sweat on his brow. It looked as though he had ridden hard to get to Erebor.

"Prince Legolas! What a surprise. I am-"

The elf cut him off sharply. "I know you are not the king, and he is the one I need to see right now."

"I am his chief counselor, Lord Balin. I was in your dungeons several weeks ago." Balin spoke slowly, to try to calm the jumpy elf. "Can you tell me what this is about? It looks like you had a hard ride here, at a very late hour."

The young prince looked closely at him. "Can you read Elvish script?" he asked.

"I have studied it, yes," Balin replied.

"Please read this. It will tell you some of what you need to know." The prince took a scroll out of his pocket and handed it to Balin.

The scroll was an official looking document. There was a signature at the bottom, written in a showy hand. A seal was pressed into red wax underneath it. Balin read the entire through several times, just to make sure he was really understanding what it said. As the implications dawned on him, he felt his stomach twist into a knot. "Banishment? It says 'regardless of her condition.' " He met the prince's gaze. "This would be a death sentence if she is still ill."

The elf prince looked sad. "That is exactly what it is. I am tasked with removing Tauriel from our kingdom. I hoped she might find refuge here, instead of a painful death in the wild."

"Wait here. I will get the king. Gamlin!" Balin shouted for his page.

"Yes my lord!"

"Have refreshments brought to this room for Prince Legolas. And water and towels so he may freshen up after a hard ride. His horse may need tending as well." He paused, thinking of other people who would need to hear this. Others who could help figure out what to do. "Have someone find Gandalf and Prince Fili and send them here. I will see to the king myself."

"Mithrandir is here?" Legolas asked. Balin thought the tired prince seemed to wake up a bit, and look more hopeful. "He will be a great help in this matter."

"We'll find out. This is a nasty business," Balin said as he left the room to find Thorin.


	4. A Request for Refuge

"The elf maid, Tauriel, is being banished in a week and a half. She is still ill, and may still be ill when she must leave. And you are the one to remove her from the kingdom." Thorin gazed steadily at the blonde haired elven prince sitting in his private hall. "You are here to ask me to take her in. Do I have that right?"

"Yes, in substance." The elven prince's voice was flat and tired.

"She is to be taken to the eastern entrance to Mirkwood, with whatever possessions she can manage, and be banished from the kingdom forever." He read the words again out loud. "Regardless of her condition," Thorin said scornfully. "That is hard to imagine. Even dwarves are not so cruel. Why does he not just have her killed and be done with it?"

"Uncle! How can you say that?" Fili gasped in outrage.

Thorin looked at his nephew. There was still such innocence and truth and honor in that face. Part of him hated to bring Fili into politics, to see his youth slowly degraded by manipulation and falseness. If the boy was going to help his brother, and run a kingdom, he had to be exposed to this kind of brutal reality.

"As Balin said to me earlier, Fili, this is no banishment decree, it is a death sentence."

He let the words hang in the air. Kicking an injured person out of her home, unable to defend herself, was just that. As a boy, he had seen his grandfather banish two dwarves for a violent attack on another. No one had ever been banished for disobeying any orders. Reassigned in position, demoted, perhaps, but no one was ever left to the elements when ill. What Thranduil was doing was truly disgraceful.

"What is her condition at this time?" Gandalf asked Legolas. "I would think she would have completely recovered weeks ago."

"No, Mithrandir." The elven prince sounded sad and weary. "She no longer has any immortality. It is completely gone. Her healing is greatly slowed."

"What?" Thorin whispered. "Gandalf, you said she shared her grace with Kili. You didn't say she gave it all to him!"

"I cannot tell that which I do not know, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said sharply. The wizard gripped Legolas's shoulder. "Are you sure her grace is all gone?"

Legolas nodded. "My father did a chant over her to show me. He said her body should glow when he was done, but it did not."

"Ah, I know that chant. I have learned some of elvish healing from Lord Elrond over the years." Gandalf paused. "Would you mind . . . in this company?"

Legolas nodded. "Anything to help Tauriel," he replied. Stunned, Thorin watched in silence as Gandalf closed his eyes and held the palm of one hand facing the elf prince. He chanted in an Elvish tongue Thorin had never heard before. Slowly the light in the room began to dim, overpowered by the growing glow coming from Legolas. By the time Gandalf had stopped, Thorin had to close his eyes to shield them from the bright light.

The room was silent. Thorin opened his eyes and looked about, saw the shock and understanding on the faces of Balin and Fili. No dwarf he knew had ever seen anything like that before.

Thorin felt uneasy. He wasn't comfortable bringing an elf into Erebor right now, even to stay for a few weeks. The dwarves were still very suspicious of the Mirkwood elves, though they had fought together. It would take many, many years to build up any kind of trust.

He especially did not want an elf here that Kili was in love with. It would be impossible to hide for long. People would find out. And then what? Discord, at best? Plots, coups? The kingdom was still unsettled.

But he could not deny he was deeply indebted to the elf maid Tauriel. She'd saved Kili more than once, and helped Fili and others in Laketown. Without her making that decision to disobey her king's orders, they would be dead. And so would he and Dis, of heartbreak. Now he knew what she was losing because she chose to help them. Her friends. Her homeland. Her immortality. Maybe even her health.

"Does she even know or understand what is happening?" he heard Balin ask Legolas kindly.

"I don't know. A herald read the terms to her yesterday, but her mind . . . " The elven prince's voice trailed off weakly.

"I don't understand why you are tasked with removing her from the kingdom. It does not seem a role for a prince." Fili asked slowly.

Thorin started. He had not considered this particular element. He saw the face of the prince turn a faint shade of grey. "It is my punishment," Legolas said dully.

"For what?" Gandalf spoke up.

"I love her, have loved her for many years. My father always disapproved."

Thorin stared at the elven prince. He thought suddenly of his sister, leading the caravans from Ered Luin to Erebor. He'd stepped in to help her raise Fili and Kili when their father had died. Thorin was hard on them, but he loved his nephews deeply. He had hated to punish them, when they were small or much older. Always he had made sure they knew what they had done wrong, why it was wrong, and that he loved them and wanted what was best for them.

Legolas was like his nephews. From a royal family, heirs in line to a throne. Subject to the king's wishes. He was someone's son. Could a father love his son and torture him at the same time? For that was what Thranduil was doing to his son, putting him in a terrible situation.

"Prince Legolas, I would like to speak to my counselors in private." Thorin walked to a table and rang a bell. A maid entered the room and curtseyed. "Please see Prince Legolas of the Mirkwood realm to one of the private royal chambers, and make sure he is comfortable. He is a royal guest and should be treated with all honor." Thorin nodded to the elf, who slowly rose and followed the maid out of the room.

* * *

Fili felt nervous as he watched the elven prince leave the room. His uncle seemed calm. Too calm. He'd even sounded kind as he'd offered the elven prince the royal hospitality of Erebor.

Things were not progressing as he expected. There was no screaming, no throwing of goblets, no stubborn, misplaced pride. He was worried something awful was about to happen. "What are you planning, Uncle?" Fili asked tentatively.

"I am considering the consequences of offering shelter to the elf maid, as you should be," his uncle replied, looking at him closely. Fili flushed a little. "I would hear your thoughts on the matter."

"Of course we must take her in!" he exclaimed passionately. "I would do anything for my brother, and so would you, Uncle!"

He did not like the look Thorin was giving him. "You are not thinking like a king, Fili. Decisions are not just about us anymore."

Fili started, and fell silent. Was his uncle saying he would not help? He looked toward Balin for support, but the old dwarven counselor inclined his head as if to make the same comment.

He swallowed, trying to calm himself enough to think. Fili realized he could not make Kili the focal point of the decision. "Six people are alive today, who would be dead weeks ago in Laketown without Tauriel's help. Five of them are the heirs of the rulers of Erebor and Dale," he began slowly, looking at Thorin for encouragement.

"Six may be a low number, but go on," his uncle said.

"She interceded with her prince and her king to get them to come and help the people of Laketown. And to fight with us. Erebor might never have been retaken otherwise. We might all be dead now without her. Our people should be proud to assist such a valiant fighter who helped so many others outside her kingdom."

For a long moment no one spoke. Fili glanced tentatively at Balin, who had a faint smile on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gandalf nodding. His uncle kept a steady gaze on him, his expression not changing.

"Well done, lad. I agree with you," Balin said finally. "Erebor owes Tauriel a debt that can never be repaid. We must do what we can for her."

"I want you in charge of this affair, Fili. Finding a room, healers, figuring out how the elf maid will get here. All of it," Thorin said briskly. "Write to King Bard, he may want to offer assistance as well, he is also in her debt."

Fili just stared at his uncle. Had he heard correctly? Did he really just say Tauriel could come to Erebor?

"It is a terrible thing, what Thranduil is doing. He is really banishing her for loving a dwarf. And then to put his own son in the position of coming to his foe to ask for help," his uncle muttered, shaking his head. "That is no way to rule."

Gandalf's laugh filled the room. "Well, Thorin, I am glad to see that sense and reason, even compassion, has returned to you since your wine and bread throwing exhibition," he replied blandly. "I'm sure Prince Legolas will be relieved to hear of this decision."

Fili stood, still feeling uncertain. "Are you sure, Uncle?"

Thorin frowned at him. "What is wrong with you, Fili? Yes, I am sure. For now we will take her in and help heal her. The situation with Kili is a separate matter."

Nodding, Fili walked to the door. "I will let the prince know, and start making arrangements." And, he thought to himself as he left the room, a private talk with Balin about his uncle would be one of his first tasks.

* * *

_**Author's note: Yes, Thorin may seem more mean this time around. I'm playing the gold sickness something like a mood disorder that makes him swing one way and then the other, every so often. And there will be at least one more tantrum in this story. **_


End file.
